


He feared to die

by artsyspikedhair



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyspikedhair/pseuds/artsyspikedhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can it be you fear to die?</p>
            </blockquote>





	He feared to die

_Drink with me to days gone by ___  
_Can it be you fear to die? ___  
_Will the world remember you when you fall? ___  
_Can it be your death means nothing at all? ___  
_Is your life just one more lie? __  
_

Enjolras was scared. Throughout all of the preparations, his faith never wavered. During the battle during the day he fought alongside the men he now considered his brothers, but he did not feel the gravity of what he was doing. He had killed a man, and now his friends were dying, and it occurred to him maybe Grantaire was right, maybe trying not to care was better than fighting for the truth. No, Grantaire never truly succeeded at cynicism, he was a skeptic to the core. Enjolras needed to believe he was giving up his life for something, so he shook his head. There was hope for a better future, and he could not give up now. 

Enjolras was more scared for his friends than for himself. Jehan, the boy with the words that could paint a mural in one's mind, was already gone. Enjolras dealt with his death by killing his prisoner, the police officer he'd not known well. He didn't kill him directly, he let one of his soldiers do that for him, but either way the man was dead. Both men were dead, Javert and Jehan. Enjolras heard the shots. He tried not to think of what might happen if they lose, which seemed more and more likely by the second. Marius was already wounded and had not been a big part of the rebellion anyway, so he'd likely survive. Combeferre, though, remained fighting, in spite of his speech on saving mother's their sons, wives their husbands, and children their fathers. Courfeyrac stayed as well, as did the rest of the A'B'C. Enjolras did not yet know if they had died, for he took cover in the Musian after the ammunition ran out. He was unsure which would his friends take better; prison or death. For him, there was no contest. Death would be a better way to go, compared to living like a slave for the rest of his life.

Suddenly he was cornered. "He is their leader... Let us shoot him on the spot."

Enjolras recognized the National Guardsman, who before shooting, said "It seems to me I am about to shoot a flower." They had grown up together, both only sons born of wealth. The man did not appear to recognize Enjolras, and he was grateful for it. Enjolras knew what was coming, yet he was still scared to die alone. He had planned the rebellion with his friends, it only seemed right that they be there. Though Enjolras knew he had no control over his own death, he wished to form an act of defiance. He did not wish to show it, but he feared to die.

Across the room, still laying on the table with the bottle in his hand was Grantaire. He had woke minutes before, hearing Enjolras admit to killing the artillery man. He tried to get up, succeeded, and crossed the room. This was his chance, he thought. His chance to prove to Enjolras he was worthy of being something, though hat he wanted from Enjolras was still, in these final moments, unclear. Still, the admiration and love Grantaire had for the other man came out a yell, not at him, but at the army out to shoot him.

"Long live the Republic! I am one of them!" Grantaire shouted, and suddenly knew what it was he wanted from Enjolras. Not love, or at least not love alone. He wanted faith, wanted to be believed in the way he believed in Enjolras, but he knew he likely wouldn't get. He was one of the Republic's citizens, for Enjolras often spoke of how the lover that is France held no man barred from her. In the Republic, prisoners could get second chances, skeptics could become believers, and it was all about to end in a single instant.

"Take us both with one blow!" Grantaire shouted once more, his still drunken state not allowing him to speak quieter. Enjolras took him in, thinking how at last his thoughts had been answered. Though he was thinking more in the terms of Combeferre or Courfeyrac, someone who he genuinely had enjoyed rather than been annoyed with, it seemed fitting Grantaire would be there to witness his undoing. Enjolras took in the man, ugly yet just as scared as he, and thought beauty is not everything. The poor are often ugly, yet the France he believed in would openly welcome them. Grantaire took in Enjolras's beauty at the same instant, and asked gently "Will you permit it?"

Enjolras smiled and held Grantaire's outstretched hand. These men so much contradictions of each other died, ones smile left on wine-stained lips, the other's barely there. Enjolras was pleased to have a friend in these final moments, and he felt a small surge of affection, almost love, as his hand pressed against Grantaire's.

Grantaire's faith left Enjolras no longer fearful as the eight bullets pierced through him. Enjolras' show of affection made Grantaire's death literally falling in love, struck down by the bullet towards his feet.


End file.
